Semi-weekly south Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1883-1889, 1887-09-23

returned to Now York, only now no bore tho
name OF William Forney, and Suzanne In q
few years seemed to forget that she had ever
had another name But did she really for
getl Roger felt sure she had, for during
these whole ten years she had never made the
slightest mention, nor given ono look that
might give rise to a suspicion that she re-
membered. SO Rogers mind was easy on
that score.
One day Roger said to her quite unexpect-
edly:
Suzanne, we are going to leave New York
md go to Paris, o place you know nothing of.
What do you sayi'
~ shall like to 60 whenever you do, father;
no matter where it is"
She said that calmly, and nothing In her
face showed hidden thought, yet. after
Roger had gone out, her face saddened, and
q retrospective look camo into tho depths Of
her lovely violet eyes.
They reached Paris, and Roger went boldly
about, knowing himself unacceptable, and
on q solid footing as far rs his identity was
concerned. He was received as rich Ameri-
can Canadian who had made his fortune by
inventions relating to steel
Roger went everywhere, and no one knew
him. He passed the very judges who had
questioned him, 10 went TO the concierge Of
his old apartment where Julia had left the
fatal money, and where he had lived so long,
but tho concierge answered his trihing ques.
tons as IL to a stranger lie went to his old fac
tory. No one knew him. His uncle, Ber-
nardit, had sold tho factory just before his
death, which took place some two years be-
fore, and Rogers heart drew him toward tho
old place 1t was tho hour for dinner, and the
worlSmen filed past him, hut though they
looked curiously at the man standing there,
none Of them knew him, though he could
have called them nearly nll by namc.
This and the regret caused by the death of
old NJ. Bernardo and his wife saddened
Roger greatly. This noble and kind old
couple had invented o story about having
put Suzanne in convent school, and tho
neighbors never questioned its truth. So
everything consDired to aid Roger in his new
life.
One day Roger told Suzanne to not feel
uneasy If ho was not home as carly as
usual, that lie wished TO look at some coun-
try houses and might DO detained. This was
while they were still at the Hotel Scribe.
Tho truth was that he wished to wait until
night fell and go to Ville d'Avray and kncel
by poor Henriette's grave, which ho had
never seen, but which was holy ground to
him.
AL tho late afternoon he wandered about
the little village into the woods behind and
beyond the house where he had lived. The
house was closed and the beautiful garden
had run to weeds. Desolation and neglect
were marked upon tho place, and Roger
I,aa lac fUht Of oh
ing home thus gone to decay. He wandered
to tho edge OF the town TO the little grave
yard, but until night fell he dared not go to
the tomb ho searched. The moon rose and
by its light he discovered grave surrounded
by'an iron grating, and on the marble cross,
hidden by weeds that grew rank over tho
poor martyr beneath, he found tho name Of
his wife. He sank down and laying his face
on the cold damp grass wept for his young
wife, whose death now seemed more real to
him than it ever had before. Ho gathered
handful Of the rank, coarse weeds and kissed
them and placed them in his pocket and roso
to go, with a heavy heart, for she had died
believing him guilty. He had turned to SO,
when he thought he saw woman's figure
moving among the graves. His heart stood
still, and he looked with wild eyes toward the
phantom, il such it was. He watched and
she walked from one grave to another,
searching everywhere and looking ut all the
inscriptions on the stones as she went
His heart stopped beating, as something in
her walk or movement told him that 1t was
his daughter, though long cloak and hood
drawn closely over her face completely hid
her from view.
II it was Suzanne, then she had forgotten
nothing! She knew all. and for ten long
years had so dissimulated that he was en-
tircly deceived, in spite Of all the efforts he
had made to discover her mind
His emotion was so strong that no was
obliged to seat himself upon tombstone and
wipe away tho thick drops Of cold sweat
from his forehead.
~ will know il it is she,n said he; ~ must
know. II it is really Suzanne she will go to
her mothers tomb.'
AS he was about to 90 back, there, near him,
stood the same dark shadow going toward the
gate.
@Madame, mademoiselle, for PHYS sake, one
wordn
Tho shadow heard, but that voice fright
ened her, for she began to run swiftly and
from view.
await if necessary all night He ran all the
way and reached the station, seeing no ono
but men on the way; but there was no one
there The train did not leave for q quarter
of all hour, and be waited and watched and
he waited and watched again untib another
one had gone, Then he decided to go home,
and there he would surely find out II Sg-
zanne was or had been out When he reached
the hotel it was nearly II o'clock, and Su.
zanne was not In their common parlor. Then
the father vent to Suzanne's bed room and
softly tried the knob The door opened, but
the room WAS dark.
"She has not returned" thought he, prey
to violent agitation.
Just then tho voice of Suzanne broke the
stiffness:
as that you, fatherP
A joy beyond words beamed in his eyes as
he heard that voice. She was there asleep
quietly in her bed and he had aroused her.
So he was mistaken. He thanked God in his
heart
ayes, dear, it is L I thought heard you
cry out"
"No, father, WINS asleep"
"Sleep again, my darling; sleep" And so,
glad and treasured, tho father kissed the
daughter and retired.
Suzanne gave q sigh of relief when he was
gone. and said, 4He did not know me, hap
ply"
Roger had not been deceived, for II was
Suzanne who had been in the cemetery and
kissed the cold iron that surrounded tho
grave that held mothers precious clay.
rrr 1,rr,p VT